


Like a Blind Hammer

by MarsDragon



Category: Fatal Fury
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Desk Sex, Forced Crossdressing, Humiliation, Implied/Referenced Underage Sex, M/M, Pin-headed son of an ice-cream maker dominated by fowl ruler of Southtown!, Sexual Coercion
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-07-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 00:49:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25055704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsDragon/pseuds/MarsDragon
Summary: Geese doesn't particularly care about the kid claiming to be his son...until Terry's involved. Then it's something to take full advantage of.
Relationships: Terry Bogard/Geese Howard
Comments: 2
Kudos: 16
Collections: Nonconathon 2020





	Like a Blind Hammer

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MarsDragon](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MarsDragon/gifts).



"Message delivered, boss. He's on his way."

"Good work," Geese said. Billy's success had never been in doubt. The only reason Geese had sent him at all was to make absolutely sure Terry Bogard would hear about the tournament no matter where he was - no excuses, no mistakes. Once he knew, he'd come...and they could settle the debt between them for good. "The plans for the tournament are proceeding smoothly?"

"Yes, sir. But one more thing about Terry..."

Geese looked up from the report he'd gone back to reading. The damn ninja were raiding his drug shipments again. If it didn't stop in the next month he'd have to go down to Orlando and take care of things personally.

"He had a kid with him. Actually with him, I followed them for a bit to make sure." Billy was as cool and professional as always, but there was a hint of tension in his shoulders. 

"So? Stop wasting my time." Terry attracted children like flies. A new one wasn't worth bringing to Geese's attention.

"Well, the long and short of it is..." Billy pulled out a sheet of paper and laid it on Geese's desk. "That's the kid. No doubt about it."

Geese picked up the paper and tried to figure out what Billy was getting at. It was a cheap, black-and-white flyer, with a blurry picture of a vaguely familiar-looking young boy and the words HAVE YOU SEEN ME? written across the top. Smaller print identified the boy as Rock Howard, last seen at Crescent and 49th. A small bell rang in the depths of Geese's mind. "That's around where Marie ended up, isn't it?"

"Yep, kid wasn't lying. He really was hers, born six months after the divorce went through." A sharp grin tugged at the edges of Billy's lips. "And guess what? No one's seen her in months, not since the little brat showed up here. She didn't even put up the flyers. Either she got abducted by aliens...or she's dead as a doornail."

It had been surprising when the normally-passive Marie had demanded a divorce out of nowhere. And come to think of it, she had developed a taste for loose and flowing gowns in the last few months of their marriage. "Well, well. Fate moves in some very strange ways, doesn't it?" Geese murmured to himself, tapping his finger on the flyer.

The boy - his son - stared at him vacantly, frozen in time.

"Do you want me to start preparing for anything, Mr. Geese?"

Geese thought about Terry and the last time they had fought. He had won too easily then; Terry had clearly grown soft in the years since they had met on top of Geese Tower. He had let Terry live as a matter of course, because there was neither meaning nor pleasure in defeating an enemy that wasn't ready for you. Jeff had taught him that.

But...Terry on his knees, panting desperately, beaten and bloody with that delicious mixture of fear and hatred in his eyes... Geese could stand to see more of that. A lot more.

It had taken him three long, painful years to recover from the first time he and Terry had fought. One small victory wasn't enough. Even defeating Terry at the height of his strength wouldn't be enough to pay back that debt.

Geese felt a slow smile spread across his face.

"Yes, I believe I do."

* * *

An hour after the boy had been shoved in a little room where he could rot his brains with cartoons without anyone else having to listen to the whining, the door to Geese's office burst open with a crash. Terry stomped through, jaw set and eyes blazing. "Geese! Where is he? You'd better-"

"I missed you too," Geese said without looking up from his laptop. He adjusted the wording on the latest email to his connection in Orlando - the ninja were _still_ at large because the man was a worthless bureaucrat who only had his position because he was related to more able men - just in time for the damn thing to lock up. Geese hit it. The screen flashed blue, spat a bunch of numbers at him, and turned dark with a pathetic little beep.

A fist landed on his desk before Geese could put his own through the screen. "I already came when you asked!" Terry snarled, halfway to jumping over the desk. "The fuck did you need to kidnap Rock for? He's got nothing to do with this! Give him back!"

It was always a pleasure when your enemies set themselves up for you. Geese closed the laptop and gave Terry a cool smile. "I didn't kidnap him."

"The hell you didn't! Your goons grabbed him right out of the park!"

"Ah. Do you mean when I rescued _my son_ from a murderous vigilante already known to bear a vicious grudge against me and mine? A man who took him all the way to New Mexico before my men were able to track them both down? A man who could have been doing anything out there in the desert?" The look on Terry’s rapidly-whitening face was beautiful to behold, and Geese took his time in savoring it. Time to twist the knife. "Taking him across state lines, Terry? That's a federal crime. I don't think the FBI will accept being challenged to a fist fight."

"Your...what? What?" Terry reeled back, clearly off-balance. But as suited for a man who could defeat Geese, he rallied quickly. "Fuck off, Howard's a common name. You can't just say he's yours-"

Geese placed a certain photograph on the desk between them, which Terry snatched with only slightly shaking fingers. "The records are quite clear, and the boy is happy to identify us both as his parents. I have multiple recent witnesses to attest to that." Geese had been a bit surprised at the vocabulary, which didn't seem like the sort of thing the boy would've learned from Marie. Must've been TV.

Terry stared at the picture of Geese and Marie's wedding day with a strange, flat expression on his face. His mouth was drawn and his eyes were cold when he placed it back on the desk, but the only thing he said was: "She looks pretty young for you."

"She was an adult, and it was her idea in the first place." Geese covered his mild surprise at the change in conversation with a shrug. And it had been her idea. The boldfaced audacity it took to come to Geese with such a mercenary plan had been what attracted him to her in the first place. It was a pity that spine had disappeared as soon as the ink was dry on the marriage license. There was no appeal to dominating an unworthy foe.

Unlike the one in front of him. Terry was trying to stay calm, but his eyes were bright with anger and his body betrayed tension in every line. Geese leaned forward, predatory. "In the event on the death of the custodial parent, custody of the children reverts to the surviving parent even in cases of divorce. You're going to have a hard time convincing the courts he belongs with a filthy, homeless bum instead of his rich, well-connected father." Geese gave Terry another smile, one of a man with dozens of very expensive lawyers. "That's not a battle you can win, Terry. The law exists to protect men like me, not street trash."

Terry's expression didn't change. He glared at Geese from under his cap, but his voice was cool and steady. "Cut the crap. You don't give a shit about Rock or he'd have been living with you instead of picking through garbage. I'm the one you want. Now, you gonna fight or not?"

"You think I'd set this up just to fight you? Don't be stupid. I didn't spend a couple million dollars sponsoring a tournament if all I needed to do was send a few men to pick up one squirming little brat." Geese put his elbows on the desk, never taking his eyes off Terry. "You have two options. You can leave and we'll forget this ever happened. The boy stays with me with the full support of the law, where he'll be raised to the standards of the Howard Connection. Good food, good clothes, good education...don't give me that look. A son could be useful." Geese doubted that. He didn't care what happened to Southtown after he left, and so had no intention of wasting precious time raising some snot-nosed punk that already hated his guts. Still, Geese could always find a use for people...even if it was just to keep Terry in line. From the look on his face the brat would work perfectly for that. "Or...you do everything I say. No protests, no defiance. And when I'm done, you get to walk out of here and take the boy with you."

"I got a better idea: I smash your face in and take Rock back myself. If you still wanna call your lawyers you can do it from traction." Terry cracked his knuckles and dropped into a fighting stance. "You won last time. Let's see if your luck's still holding out."

Geese tapped the intercom embedded in his desk. "Do it and the brat dies screaming." He caught the look Terry gave him and returned it with an icy one of his own. "Don't think for even a second you can defeat me before they kill him. You know better than that. If you're very lucky, you might get there in time for him to die in your arms. Just like Jeff." He spoke the next words casually, relishing every twitch on Terry's pale face. "More likely you'll get to pick up the pieces."

"You-"

"There are men right outside to relay the order if they hear the slightest disturbance in here. Don't think you can get out of this."

Terry's mouth moved without sound for a few seconds before he managed to speak. "He's...he's your son. You just said-!"

"You already said it, didn't you? I don't care about him. If he lives, fine, I'll find a use for the little brat. If he doesn't...so what? You're the only one I want. Whether he lives or dies is entirely up to you."

Terry watched him, wary and careful. "And I'm just supposed to trust you'll keep your word?"

"Do you have any choice?" Geese settled back, secure in his victory. "If you don't like it you can always leave him with me. I'm sure he'll come around to my way of thinking eventually."

"...all right. Fine. You win." Terry slumped down, eyes hidden beneath his cap. His voice was quiet and resigned. "Who do you want beaten?"

Too easy. Terry's shoulders were almost imperceptibly shaking and his teeth were clenched, but it wasn't quite enough. Geese rested his chin on his fist as he considered. "I should make you beg for this."

Terry raised his head just enough for Geese to catch the flash of anger in his narrowed eyes. For a second he leaned forward, muscles tensed with the edge of battle... and then it was gone. He dropped to one knee without a word of protest.

"Please. Don't hurt him. I'll do whatever you want, I'll be your attack dog, just... don't hurt him."

Yes, that was it. Terry Bogard, Jeff's son, one of the only men Geese had ever feared, knelt in front of him like a debtor without money for three months running. His voice trembled, his shoulders shook, and oh, it was beautiful. All that strength and it was completely, absolutely, worthless in front of the power Geese wielded.

Heat was already starting to pool in his gut, and he had to ease his legs apart a bit for comfort. Soon.

But not quite yet. Forcing his voice to idle indifference, Geese turned his attention back to his desk. "Good. There are clothes on the seat behind you. Put them on."

He heard Terry get up without taking his attention off paper spreadsheets his eyes skimmed over without seeing. There was the sound of a few steps, and then-

"Wh- What the hell are these?!"

"The clothes you'll wear if you want to see the boy alive and whole ever again." Geese shuffled papers around without looking up at Terry's undoubtedly furious form. "What did you think I wanted you for? I have more than enough attack dogs, Terry. I'm not going to waste you like that."

There was no reply. After a long minute, the office was filled with the sound of rustling cloth.

Geese waited, trying to hold back his anticipation. He read the same report on betting profits from street fights three times before he finally heard Terry come around the desk.

"All right, I did it. Let Rock go already," Terry said, stone-faced. His lips were pale where they pressed together.

It was perfect. The top was blue and white, and the curve of the cups combined with Terry's already-impressive chest gave the impression of assets he did not strictly have. Below that his well-muscled midriff was on full display, above a small, pleated skirt that flared just enough to imply the existence of hips. The broad shoulders and thick arms meant no one would ever mistake Terry for an actual cheerleader, but the overall effect was pleasing nevertheless.

"You think that's it?" Geese murmured as he reached out to rest his hand on Terry's bare thigh, just below the skirt. "You're here until I say you can go, Terry. That's the deal." He slid his hand up until it was beneath the skirt and still touching warm, uncovered flesh. Geese smiled. "You did remember everything. Good."

There was no reply. Geese rubbed his thumb against the soft edge of fabric at the top of Terry's leg before raising his hand and bringing it down with a sharp smack. "All right, turn around. Let me see the rest."

Terry obeyed, again without a word. Geese found himself admiring the way the skirt swirled at the sharp movement. He lifted it off Terry's ass to see the results of his planning: a small pair of panties with an angry wolf and "Don't touch me!" scrawled across the back.

He traced the words with his fingers, pressing extra hard on the "touch". The flesh beneath was firm and solid, and he could feel every little twitch Terry made as he fought to keep still. Geese took his time exploring, running his fingers across Terry's ass and down his crack, then up again until Terry's ponytail brushed the back of his knuckles. He toyed with it, considering. Terry did have surprisingly nice hair, for a homeless bum. "Take this down," Geese ordered.

Terry started, like he hadn't been paying attention, but he reached back and started undoing his ponytail without complaint. First the bottom tie, then the top, and then his long golden hair fell loose across his back, like a wave. The tips reached all the way down until they brushed against the lower edge of the skirt. Geese reached up and ran his fingers through the smooth strands, watching them twist through his fingers. He kept it up as he spoke. "I used to have long hair too, you know. It's real pain to take care of. I'm surprised a vagrant like you can manage it."

"Shut up with the fake compliments," Terry grit out. "Bend me over the desk so we can get this over with already."

"Tch. I suppose a stray wolf like you just gulps down whatever food he can get as fast as possible." Geese kept stroking Terry's hair, brushing against the warm, firm skin of his back. He could feel Terry's angry helplessness, and it made his mouth water. His voice dropped to a purr. "You're supposed to savor a good meal, Terry."

Terry stiffened, but held still. Tension rippled across his bare shoulders, and the sight sent a shot of warmth through Geese's stomach. He left off playing with Terry's hair and gave his ass another slap. That one would leave a mark, a bright red handprint showing exactly who had claimed Terry this night. That was a good thought, and it colored his next words. "Turn around again."

Terry did, skirt and hair swirling. The hair was a nice touch. It softened his face, contrasting with the furious set of his eyes. Geese urged him forward until he was standing between Geese's spread legs, helpless in his paws.

He let his hand slide under the skirt to rest on Terry's ass again, squeezing the solid flesh under the soft cotton. Terry's fingers flexed, but that was all. He stared past Geese, straight ahead. Geese gave Terry's ass another idle squeeze before pulling him just a little closer, until Terry's legs knocked against the edge of the chair. Terry swayed as he caught his balance. For a bare second there was surprise instead of hate in his eyes, but it was gone before his next breath.

Geese slowly stroked up Terry's side with his free hand, tracing the muscles that jumped under his fingers. He took the time to squeeze at the top's cups and the flesh they concealed, to Terry's evident discomfort, before letting his hand continue all the way up to the neck, where he could tangle his fingers in that golden hair and pull. Terry lurched forward, throwing his hands out to catch himself before he collapsed entirely onto Geese. They stayed like that for a moment, Geese bracketed between Terry's thick arms and looking up at his shocked, nervous expression, before dragging Terry further down into a kiss.

Terry tried to jerk back, but Geese kept his grip firm and steady, not allowing even one inch of retreat. Stray dogs needed a strong hand, after all.

He entered Terry's mouth like a conqueror. Nothing was left untouched. Lips, tongue, teeth, palate...Geese tasted them all, overwhelming all hints of resistance with sheer strength. Terry - street fighting champion, strongest fighter in the world - could do nothing but stand there and take it, his helpless, choked noises devoured by Geese without the slightest acknowledgment.

It was glorious. Terry's mouth tasted like cheap food and cheaper beer, but more than that, it tasted like _victory_.

Geese took his time in savoring the flavor. When Terry twisted and jerked away for a gasp of breath, Geese chased him down again. When Terry shoved at Geese's shoulder, Geese increased the grip on his hair. And when Geese finally drew back, all Terry could do was stand there, panting through lips bruised bright red.

Geese moved on to his neck.

He pulled Terry's head back until the man's neck was completely bared in that ancient gesture of submission and fell onto the exposed flesh with a will. He bit, he sucked, he ravaged Terry's neck until it was covered in red marks, and only then did he pull back to admire his work. Lovely. The bruises wouldn't fade for days, and until then Terry would be forced to bear the signs of this night. Geese chuckled as he moved in one last time, aiming for the hollow of Terry's throat. "Everyone will see, Terry," he purred against the skin. "Everyone will know what happened to you here. How does that feel?" He bit down as hard as he could, hard enough to taste blood, and the pained sound of Terry's voice went straight to his crotch.

"B-better than letting you have Rock," Terry gritted out. His voice was ragged, as well as his breath. Looking up, Geese was surprised to see a bright flush spread across his cheeks. So he liked it rough. How convenient. Geese smiled as he forced Terry even closer, adjusting their position until he could easily reach Terry's chest.

"From the looks of it, I should have reclaimed him sooner." Geese licked at the jumping muscles of Terry's chest, tasting the sour note of fear there, before using his teeth to open the knot holding the skimpy top closed. The sky-blue fabric fell away, exposing more of Terry's broad chest, along with two sharply peaked nipples.

"Shut u- ah!" Anything Terry had wanted to say was lost in a strangled yelp when Geese placed his mouth over a nipple and bit down, hard. He scraped his teeth across the sensitive flesh, licked the marks away, then replaced them with new ones. And all through it, the only thing Terry could do was gasp and tremble in his arms. 

Another warm rush of pleasure surged through him when he pulled away and Terry refused to meet his gaze. Geese enjoyed that look as he let go of Terry's hair and slowly pulled the panties down over the swell of Terry's ass.

Terry's eyes flicked to Geese and away again, unable to decide what to do, knowing it was all useless. Geese let his hand roam over the newly-exposed skin, idly, enjoying the smooth, firm flesh, before letting it rest comfortably on the crack. A threat, a promise...they were the same thing, really.

He pulled the curtain of Terry's hair back with his other hand. Terry's expression was fixed and grim, the perfect stoic hero. Geese stroked down Terry's jaw almost lovingly until his fingers rested on those soft, swollen lips. "You'll want to cooperate for this part," he said conversationally, and pressed those fingers inside.

Terry's eyes narrowed, but he did cooperate, licking at the invading fingers as Geese thrust them further into his mouth. It didn't take long until they were thoroughly wet and Geese could pull his hand away, moving down, down, and to Terry's waiting hole.

He slipped two fingers in at once, making Terry's breath hitch. Though the loose fall of his hair obscured his expression, the line of his jaw was tight and strained, and his arms trembled where they were braced on either side of Geese. Wonderful.

But having Terry leaning over him meant it was difficult to go any deeper. A shame, because Terry clenched so wonderfully around Geese's fingers - a delicious foretaste of what he'd be like around Geese's cock. It was a simple matter to drag Terry closer; he fought, of course, but gave in after a moment to fall forward, his face buried in Geese's shoulder. He panted heavy and wet as Geese slowly curled the fingers buried inside him. There was a noticeable bulge pressed against Geese's leg.

Geese grinned wide. His greatest enemy was sprawled helplessly in his arms. "You've become quite tame," he murmured in Terry's ear. "It seems all you needed was a firm hand to bring you to heel."

"Let Rock go and I'll show you how _tame_ I am!" Terry spat, rising just enough that Geese could see the absolute fury in his eyes...but not enough to put any space between them. Geese could feel the tension in every one of those hard muscles, caught between pleasure and shame.

"Completely. You're downright domesticated." Geese stroked his other hand down to cup Terry's erection and gripped punishingly hard just to feel Terry jerk, unable to get away. He did it again before removing both his hands. "On your knees now, there's a good boy," he said with a soft pat to Terry's hip.

Terry snarled and obeyed. He shoved himself off Geese with barely-restrained violence, hard enough that Geese had to dig his heels in to keep from skidding across the floor. Terry knelt on the floor between Geese's legs, glaring from behind his bangs, fists knotted in his tented skirt. And there he sat.

Geese reached out and threaded his fingers through Terry's hair again, watching the strands fall through his fingers. "Are you just going to sit there? Come on."

"And do what?"

"A good dog understands his master's needs, but..." He tightened his fingers and dragged Terry's face forward until it met his aching crotch. "...I suppose a stray does need extra training. Can you figure it out from here, or do you need detailed instructions?" He rubbed Terry's cheek against hiserection, enjoying the pressure through the layers of cloth.

Terry didn't reply, but raised his hands to jerkily open Geese's pants. He did it quickly and impersonally, and when his hands settled awkwardly on the edge of the chair - not touching Geese at all - they tensed only a few times before Terry leaned forward and licked at the tip of Geese's cock.

The feeling was electric. Part was the sensation of Terry's lips and tongue as he began to apply them to the hard flesh, part was the sight of Terry's grim, beaten expression, but the most of all of it was the sense of _power_. It had been building ever since Terry had first knelt to beg for the little brat's life and now it was rapidly spiraling out of control as Terry opened his mouth to swallow Geese's cock with surprising ease.

He couldn't resist pushing forward a bit, shoving his cock deep into Terry's throat, just to watch him choke on it. The result was almost disappointing. Terry tensed and shuddered, his eyes blinking rapidly, but soon he relaxed and let Geese take what he wanted without a fight. He rode out the first experimental thrusts and when they were over, all he did was set to licking and sucking with patient determination.

"Hpmh. You're surprisingly good at this," Geese idly commented, combing his fingers through Terry's hair. He leaned back and let the sensations wash over him - no point in straining himself to no avail this early. There was time yet to watch Terry suffer. "Practice? I didn't think you were the type, though I suppose you never can tell...or wait. How old _were_ you, when I killed your father?"

That got a reaction - a tense shudder under Geese's hand, and a harsh swallow around his cock. Bingo. He kept going with a lazy smile. "The report said you disappeared onto the streets and didn't reappear for ten years. What kind of jobs are there for filthy little street urchins anyway?" It was a rhetorical question. Geese knew damn well how few opportunities there were at the bottom of the heap - he'd been just as desperate for money himself, once. The difference was, Geese had been ready to hurt others to get ahead. Terry, on the other hand... "And how many of those would Jeff be proud of you for?"

Terry made a harsh little noise that electrified every nerve in Geese's body. He tensed, eyes squeezed shut, and then threw himself forward, wrapping his tongue around Geese's cock and sucking at it like he had nothing left to lose. It was glorious, hot and wet and desperate, and Geese forced himself to hold back even as his fingers tightened painfully in Terry's hair. He held the approaching climax off with grim focus until it swelled before him, inevitable, a second away, and in that last second shoved Terry off him with a loud, wet pop.

They sat like that for a moment, watching the other with blood in their eyes. Terry looked like he was a half a second away from going for Geese's throat, eyes rimmed with red and a vicious, splotchy blush across his cheeks.

Geese settled back into his chair slowly, forcing himself back under control. "Did you think I'd let you get off that easily?" he asked, only the slightest roughness in his supremely confident voice. "I have so many more plans for you, Terry."

Terry wiped his mouth off with the back of his hand in silence.

"Up on my lap now. Here boy." He patted his lap just to make the point, and widened his smirk at the expression on Terry's face. "Panties off," he added when Terry got to his feet, and was rewarded with another grimace as Terry jerked the little scrap of cloth down. Even after all that, he was still hard. It was impossible to hide. 

He climbed onto Geese's lap gingerly, still trying to avoid touching his enemy, even as he fit his legs through the armrests and settled himself on top of Geese's legs. His posture was stiff, his back straight, giving Geese a perfect view of his bitten and bruised neck, open top, rumpled skirt, and dripping hard cock. The last was nearly brushing Geese's own, there wasn't enough room on the chair for Terry to get away, and...and was he bigger than Geese? Really? Unbelievable. How dare he?

But any displeasure was soothed away with one look at Terry's face. The attempts at stoicism were crumbling, and his face was twisted in helpless misery.

Geese's smile returned, and he reached up to tuck a bit of hair behind Terry's ear. "Well? What are you waiting for?"

A bit of the wolf returned in Terry's glare, but he looked away just as quickly. He silently raised himself up - pushing on the armrests, forced to worm his hands in under Geese's - and slowly, carefully impaled himself on Geese's cock.

He couldn't keep his stiff-backed posture after that. He fell forward, into Geese's chest, his hair tumbling around them in waves of gold, and Geese could feel every shuddering breath, every twitch and jerk of Terry's large frame, as he tried to adjust to the thick, hard flesh inside him.

It was glorious. He clenched around Geese, unable to relax, and it was one of the best things Geese had ever felt. Better than any of the whores he had taken over the years, better than Billy, better than alcohol or cocaine, almost as good as killing Jeff.

Geese wrapped his arms around Terry and tucked his face up against that neck. "Now move," he purred, and Terry did.

Or he tried. The heavy-duty executive's chair creaked alarmingly under them, but either Terry couldn't find any leverage or he was deliberately holding back. He rocked his hips up and down with tiny, minute little jerks, his hands digging into Geese's shoulders, and it wasn't nearly enough. The godlike rush of power began to fade into irritation and impatience, and pretty soon Geese had pulled away from Terry and was watching him with undisguised annoyance.

Fine then. Geese took matters into his own hands. He stood up, ignoring Terry's yelp of surprise, and supporting Terry with one arm, pushed everything on his desk out of the way with the other. Then he slammed Terry down again, took one moment to appreciate how he looked all spread out on top of Geese's desk, face red and legs wide open, before shoving his cock back in as hard as he could.

"Legs around my waist," he grunted, and drove his palm down next to the intercom when Terry hesitated. He grabbed onto Terry's hip with his other hand, digging his fingers in hard enough to bruise, and added, "Touch yourself."

"Go to he-!"

Geese's fingers inched just a bit closer to the intercom and Terry's eyes followed every move. "Do it."

Terry's face twisted, but he obeyed.

Stage set, Geese was free to chase his pleasure as much as he wished. He hammered into Terry, hard enough to set the heavy desk sliding across the floor, to make Terry jerk and writhe, to drive desperate, pained gasps from his lips. Every movement, every thrust, marked Geese's victory. Here was Terry Bogard, the legendary wolf, the hero of Southtown, panting and moaning under Southtown's conquerer. That was the real rush, the real pleasure. That was what drove white-hot electricity through Geese's veins with every movement.

No matter what happened in the tournament, here, at this moment, Geese had won.

No false victory over a weakened opponent, no regrets, no hesitation. He had used his power as the ruler of Southtown to destroy its hero, and that was all that mattered.

The thought took him over the edge as he buried himself into Terry, expelling his seed so far and deep Terry would never be able to remove the stain. He stayed there, pressed close, so near he was breathing the air from the other's mouth and watching every expression on Terry's face. He still jerked under Geese in small, desperate movements, unable to stop, until at least he gave one final choked cry and came all over himself.

The only sound left in the office was their harsh, synchronized breaths.

Eventually Geese untangled himself and flopped back on his chair with a satisfied sigh. The afterglow left him pleasantly relaxed, a feeling strengthened by looking over Terry's ravaged body.

It was beautiful. He sat up, hair falling around him like a particularly debauched Lady Godiva, staring out the window with an uncharacteristically thoughtful look on his face. His lips were swollen and red, bruises ran down his neck and across his chest, his skirt was askew, and Geese's come was smeared across his legs. He looked wrecked. Devastated. Like a broken, discarded toy.

He dropped his face. "...I didn't realise you were such a coward."

Geese tensed suddenly. "What?"

"You heard me." Terry was looking at him and his eyes were not those of a beaten dog. A wolf stared at Geese now. "I thought that even if you were a criminal and a scumbag, at least you fought your own battles. You didn't run and hide. But it turns out you're just a cringing little coward after all."

"You-!"

Geese fist met Terry's face in a purely automatic reaction. It was a good punch, springing all the way from his feet and into the hammer blow of his fist. There was the familiar sting in his knuckles and then Terry was spilling over the edge of the desk, crashing to the ground along with the laptop and everything else.

Geese stalked over, ready to drag him to his feet, but Terry was already rising, wiping the blood from his mouth with the back of his hand. They glared at each other, half a second from violence.

"How dare you?" Geese snarled. "How dare you call _me_ -"

"Hell yeah I dare! What else do you call someone that's hiding behind a child?!" Terry straightened up, teeth bared and red with blood. "Hit me all you like. Do it! Do it while I can't hit you back, you goddamn coward!"

Red misted over Geese's eyes. It would be so easy. Every muscle, every tendon in his body was tense and ready to strike. He could shut Terry up - for good.

And it wouldn't mean a thing.

Terry was still shouting. "You even won! You beat me fair and square! I had to go out and train all these six months just to have a chance to beating you again and even after that you can't bring yourself to face me without a hostage? The hell's up with that? Even you had _some_ sense of honor, but now-"

"Shut up. Get out. Take your brat and leave." Geese turned away, furious at Terry, at himself, at the whole world. How dare Terry say that?

How dare he be right?

Without noticing, the sweet taste of victory had turned into ashes.

"...I'll see you at the tournament. And this time, Geese, I'm gonna finish things for good." There was the sound of footsteps and rustling fabric, and then the door.

Geese didn't look. He didn't even turn his head. He just kept staring out over the lights of his city, a sight that usually filled him with warm satisfaction.

Not tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> I absolutely believe that Miami Connection and Fatal Fury take place in the same universe. It just makes so much sense. 
> 
> Kim has totally gone to Dragon Sound concerts. 
> 
> I did NOT get the title from a ska song this time, but an electronic one. Thanks to my usual beta.


End file.
